Of Clouds and Demons
by Crescentium
Summary: Farfarello, clouds, demons and telepathy. With a little Oracle thrown in.


Light flowed over the flocks of celestial sheep and blazed on the sun-white cream. This was what Farfarello was thinking, and it fed Schuldig's imagination. Farfarello saw twisted dragons and elaborate shapes shifting, continuously converging and diverging. All Schuldig saw was clouds.

"Thunder is coming," and only Crawford could utter such a statement when the sky was blue and the clouds were white.

Neither Schuldig nor Farfarello moved when the precognitive came to them. Farfarello was lying on his back, staring up at the sky. Schuldig let his feet hang off the edge of the cliff. Far below, waves crashed against the rocks.

"Aren't you going to tell us to come away before it starts to rain?" Schuldig asked. He looked at Crawford. "Isn't that what you came here for?"

Crawford stood in silence. He might have been looking at the waves below or the shore in the distance; it was impossible to tell through the shades he wore. Only a man wanting to hide his eyes would wear shades in this weather.

"Perhaps he is here to learn from the clouds, like we are," said Farfarello.

Schuldig evaluated the image of cut hearts Farfarello saw in the odd shape of the white-grey mass travelling over their heads. He wondered what the lesson was.

"Is that what we're doing?" the telepath inquired.

"It is what I am doing," said Farfarello while beginning to distinguish details in the quickly dissolving figure that was about to transform into another dragon. "And you are, presumably, occupied with my mind, so you are in fact engaged in the same activity through me."

Schuldig realised, once again, how easy it was to underestimate Farfarello's cognitive abilities. He said nothing in response. Clouds were moving faster and becoming darker. Crawford stood in silence like an organic statue, wind tugging at his coat. The interplay of light and celestial shapes was like a symphony in Farfarello's mind, and the rumble of the storm was like a murmuring accompaniment to the orchestra.

"There are demons in thunder," Farfarello said exuberantly. He lay with his arms spread out on the rocky surface, a zealous hunger painted on his face.

"Really?" Schuldig asked. "I thought thunder was supposed to be God's wrath or something."

"It is," Farfarello spoke with the voice of a preacher, rising above the thunder until he was shouting. "It is! He battles the demons in the clouds! Sky is the border between our world and God's heaven. Clouds guard the gates and reflect back to us our souls. They engage our attention and distract us. But the demons rise in the thunder to strike back at Him!"

Schuldig considered this. He gazed at the dark sky and decided that he still couldn't see any of the images he picked up from Farfarello's mind. "Well, to me, they're just clouds", he said. "What that say about my soul? That I'm a realist?"

"No." Farfarello's yellow eye burned as he scanned the clouds for signs of a tear, a slice of light.

"No?" Schuldig was getting curious. "Then what?"

Farfarello's answer came impatiently, he was irritated that his cloud-gazing was disturbed. "You have nothing in your soul, so you see nothing but what you steal from other people."

"Excuse me?" Schuldig looked slightly affronted. "I steal?"

"You spy on the minds of others and steal their thoughts," Farfarello said and suddenly he was looking at Schuldig. The telepath felt a chill creep up his spine for the images he saw in the psychopath's thoughts. Farfarello was thinking about cutting open the telepath's head with his knife to see if his mind was as empty as his soul. Schuldig wondered if pointing out that a mind was not a corporeal thing would convince the psychopathic zealot.

It was better to try to distract him. "So, when you see a dragon in the clouds, it means you have a dragon in your soul?"

Farfarello continued to stare at him. Then there was a smile, evidence that his thoughts were diverted from wanting to see inside Schuldig's head.

"The Bible speaks of a dragon that comes before the end of the world," Farfarello said, and his mind disappeared into the storm.

_You shouldn't play with him._ Crawford had not moved from where he stood the whole time. He was silent and his face was still, like a mask carved in stone, and it was not what Schuldig was used to. Crawford's face had more thought, more expression than this. He wanted to hide something.

But he didn't really, because if he did, he would not have come here. Schuldig tilted his head back and looked at the clouds in silence for a while. _What do _you_ see in the clouds?_

Crawford's silence was answer enough. Whatever he saw disturbed him.

"I know where a lightning will strike," said the precognitive and immediately engaged Farfarello's attention.

_Where? Where? Where? Tell me! Where?_ The zealous mind was screaming, but no sound emerged. He waited patiently, though it was killing him. Crawford had taught him well.

The precognitive gave the location to the telepath, no words were needed. Farfarello's single eye and attention remained fixed on Crawford. Schuldig was looking at the psychopath though his mind was preoccupied with the American.

_Since when have you trusted me to keep him out of trouble?_ The telepath was genuinely curious. Crawford's behaviour was rather unusual.

_I don't._ The precognitive still would not look at him. _I am coming with you._

_With us?_ Schuldig was so surprised that his head snapped toward Crawford. The telepath could not imagine what possible entertainment the precognitive could get out of watching Farfarello go into raptures over a lightning bolt.

Schuldig's sudden movement had attracted Farfarello's attention. The yellow eye was staring at the both of them now, narrowed, suspicious. His mind was asking all kinds of questions.

The precognitive turned to look at Farfarello. "Schuldig will show you."

The telepath frowned. _I thought you said you were coming with us._

_I am. Up there._ Crawford turned his head a little toward the sky, Schuldig looked at the dark masses of clouds. He didn't understand.

Farfarello stood up. He stared at Crawford. Schuldig had heard the question a moment before it left Farfarello's lips, "What do you see in the clouds?"

Schuldig anticipated the same silence, but this time the question seemed to surprise the precognitive. Maybe he had seen the question asked only once. A sliver of thought passed close to the surface of Crawford's mind, and Schuldig caught the tail of it.

The telepath's smile laughed at the precognitive, the visionary, the clairvoyant, the soothsayer, the Oracle, who saw his own demons in the clouds.

"He sees us," Schuldig said, enjoying every inch and flavour of the idea. He turned to Farfarello. "Come. Let's go find your lightning bolt."

The mind-reader and the murderer left. The seer stayed to look at the clouds.


End file.
